Commandant of the Sky
by Codsworth
Summary: "You have to help me, I don't want to anybody else to die because of me." An owl working for a shady organization shows up during a storm with a messenger bag that contains the one thing that could destroy the universe, everything from humanity to time and space. The only one who knows how to stop it is this owl, but he can't necessarily "stop" it...


**Commandant of the Sky**

**Prologue:**

The penguins slept quietly on their stone beds, filling their dreams with fish, warm hot cocoa, and a beautiful lady friend. The storm waged on outside. Wind and rain battled the world in a genocidal campaign, engulfing it, reminding man's natural primitive fear of the night, nightmares of the dead, and visions of the underworld. In the screaming and murderous wind topside the penguin exhibit, laying almost unconscious near the steel storm door, was a creature of the air. Bleeding, suffocating from the water, he would dead in several minutes if no one came to his aide. This bird, an owl to be exact, was carrying a messenger bag around his body containing important documents regarding details of a mission. He was under direct orders by his superior and he failed. So close to success, a victory in his war, the owl was at the same time farther from being free from his slavery. For several years now he had been in the service of a man who has given him grief and pain, this man is anonymous, powerful, and one of the best terrorists in the world. This bird, for twelve years, was his forced indentured servant.

In a desperate last attempt, the owl reached over with his talon and beat the distress signal up against the steel door, hoping that someone, anyone would answer. _Short, short, short, long, long, long, short, short, short._ S.O.S. He repeated this three times. Dire distress. Each time the bird tapped harder and louder, desperate for a savior in this cold wet devious storm that looked down upon him with all the malice it carried.

These signals for S.O.S echoed throughout the man-made cave of the penguins, with its cement and steel hybrid equipped with a steel blast door, the whole world, storm included could be heard vaguely but distinguishably. Private and Rico stirred, Kowalski was a brick wall unmoving, and Skipper, although appeared to be asleep like the rest of them, was always aware of everything. He wasn't in the state of dream, he just pretended like he was. As soon as the knocking was heard, the senior penguin immediately opened his eyes and raised alarm. "Distress call, topside!" He shouted, as he quickly jumped out of bed and raced for the ladder. The others were stone dead, lost in the fantasies of their heads.

Skipper climbed the ladder and opened the hatch, exposing himself to the dark and dreary night. As soon as he saw him, the penguin quickly tried to fireman carry this poor soul to the safety of the underground.

Dripping wet, the owl shook himself dry naturally as soon as Skipper laid him down on the cold floor near the table in the center of the room. The penguin inspected him, lifting both wings, looking for any structural damage. "It seems," Skipper said, eventually noticing a bullet wound located in the owl's right side, "that you put up a hell of a fight solider. What you face, a pack of wolves or something?" The owl smiled and slowly removed the bag that he carried. He handed it to him, "Everything you need to know," the owl said, "is in this bag." Skipper took the bag from him, noticing the owl's Russian accent. "You're Russian?" Skipper asked as he walked over to the first aid kit.

"Major General Kostya Volkov, former Russian Air Force, current IBSFO."

"IBSFO? I thought that organization was dead?" Skipper replied, a bit suspicious of him but nonetheless, applied proper first-aid procedure. With each passing moment, the penguin looked at the owl, growing curious and skeptical of any good moral motive he could have, for a good reason.

The IBSFO, or The International Bird Special Forces Organization, was a team of elite fighters back in the early 1960's devoted to protecting the Soviet Air Force. They were highly trained killers, fierce mercenaries, performed very secret, very lethal operations. Considered the deadliest elite force on the planet from 1962-1987, The IBFO disbanded after the Soviet Union dissolved in 1991.

"Are you a Communist?" Skipper asked, placing the bag which he didn't open on the table. Kostya laughed, "Communist? You think I'm a Communist!" He breathed in and out, trying to control his laughter. "I never was moi droog, that's the problem with Americans, they assume too much."

"Well I don't trust you." Skipped said, "I'm going back to bed, you can stay here 'til the storm passes." Kostya nodded, "Why is it that you don't trust me?" He asked.

"Association. Now please try to get some sleep." Skipper added as he crawled back into bed.

The owl looked at the table and slowly grabbed the bag, bringing it down to the floor. He pulled out the contents, inspected them to see if they were still intact and placed them back in the bag. He then laid down on his back, closed his eyes, and fell asleep. _"You have to help me," _Kostya thought, _I don't anybody else to die because of me." _He exhaled and said softly, "Please help me."

Thunder shouted like a war drum, silencing the wind and rain from ridiculous crusades and vendetta. The lightning joined his brother in bringing the peace between the two warring elements, but like misbehaving children, the wind and the rain fought long and hard into the night against the world, who desperately wanted to be saved from the cold, bitter rain and the violent abusive wind. All the while the zoo, unbeknownst to anyone else but the owl that lay sleeping and slowly bleeding on the floor of the penguin exhibit, was harboring the one thing that could take away their life-force, not just of the inhabitants of the zoo, but the inhabitants and make of all the universe. In a single instant, the universe and all its splendor, every man, woman, child, creature, speck of dust, every star, planet, and galaxy, even the things so complicated and intricate as matter and even time and space themselves would be destroyed. The universe was oblivious to this. The owl wasn't. He himself held in that very bag the ultimate destruction of everything, and he knew how to stop it, he just couldn't. Not yet anyway.

_"You have to help me, I don't want to anybody else to die because of me."_

"I don't want anybody else to die, _because of me_..."

**End of Prologue**

**This is an experimental piece. **

**Meaning that I honestly don't know if I'll flesh this out or not. It's just an idea at the moment. **

**Any comments regarding story, suggestions, general feedback would be most appreciated. **


End file.
